


The Flaw in the Plan

by legallyblack



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Compliant, Friendship, The Golden Trio, harry isnt dead, romione, sad but then happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:34:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29004558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legallyblack/pseuds/legallyblack
Summary: Harry is dead, and she is not.AKA When Harry is fake dead in the Deathly Hallows but Hermione and Ron don't know it yet so this is their reaction + the final battle from Hermione's POV!(canon compliant)**Sneak peak at my wip story, Hermione Granger and the Deathly Hallows, from her POV**
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	The Flaw in the Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Lovelies! Enjoy this chapter of the Deathly Hallows from Hermione's point of view!

_May 2nd, 1998_

_5:04 a.m._

  
  


_He’s dead._

_Harry’s dead._

Harry Potter is dead. 

And she is not. Her best friend is dead and she’s alive. He lies there, limp, unmoving, while her heart pounds violently against her ribcage. “Oh my _God,_ Ron—” She turns to her right, and if she ever thought that the death of his own brother was his breaking point, she was wrong. Almost comically, the analytic side of her brain started working on it’s own accord. 

_How could this have happened? We had seen him nearly 45 minutes ago. He couldn’t have gone…_

But she knew the answer in her heart. Of _course_ he sacrificed himself. Wasn’t that his plan all along? To entrust his two best friends with the secrets to save the world, and then gallantly leave it all behind to do one last good deed? Not for the first time in her life, Hermione felt foolish. Utterly, and totally _stupid_. But still, Harry didn’t do anything gallantly. He had lived his entire life trying to hide from the fame and destiny given to him at birth. This had to be something else. And now, she would have to figure it out herself. But time was running out. A thought occurred to her.

“He got to go home. To Godric’s Hollow. He’d always wanted to.” She whispered.

Ron turned to her, his shaking rivalling her own. At her words, he nodded, looking back at the grim procession of Death Eaters. A look of panic crossed his face. Grabbing her arm, he looked down at her. “Hermione, you have to go. Get inside, apparate, do whatever. Just get out of here.” She stared at him wildly. “Wha—” 

“He’s _gone_ , Hermione.” His voice choked on a sob. “You think they aren’t gonna go after the two people who helped him get this far?” Realization dawned on her, chilling her to her core. 

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” Her voice was barely a whisper, begging him to contradict her, to say there was still hope. But even she knew, more than anyone, that this was the truth. Ron nodded quickly at her revelation.

“I don’t know, but you’re a muggleborn, Mione. You know what they’ll do. I can’t let that happen to you again, I _won’t._ ” Tears were spilling down both their faces. She shook her head. “No, no. They’ll find me anyway. We have to kill the snake. That task still remains, doesn’t it?” Ron looked as if he had completely forgotten about the Horcruxes altogether. She didn’t blame him. Before they could say anything else, there was a strangled scream from behind them. She whipped around to see Ginny running directly at Harry, before being restrained by Mr. Weasley. The sight of Ginny, a girl who was normally so tough, so resilient and carefree, looking so _broken_ , broke something further in Hermione. She found herself letting out her own strangled wail of despair. Clutching Ron’s hand tightly, as though it was the only lifeforce she had left (albeit, it sort of was), she watched the scene play out in front of her.

Soon enough, the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters, until — 

“SILENCE!” cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. Hermione felt her throat close up involuntarily; she couldn’t speak. 

“It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!” Harry was lowered onto the grass. “You see?” said Voldemort. “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!” Her fists shook with rage at the lies. 

“He beat you!” yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more. Hermione was torn between anger at Ron for being so reckless in front of the evil wizard, and pride. _That’s my Ron_. He had managed to break past a silencing charm, and a powerful one too. 

“He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds,” said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice, “killed while trying to save himself —” Ron and Hermione looked at each other. No, that couldn’t be true. Harry wouldn’t—

But Voldemort broke off: Hermione let out a silent gasp of horror, as Neville had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: Hermione watched as Voldemort raised his wand at Neville, knocking him down, Disarmed, and Voldemort throwing the challenger’s wand aside and laughing. “And who is this?” he said in his soft snake’s hiss. “Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?” Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh. “It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?” “Ah, yes, I remember,” said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the no-man’s-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters.

“But you are a pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?” Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists. “So what if I am?” said Neville loudly. “You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd, whom Voldemort’s Silencing Charms seemed unable to hold. Hermione, on the other hand, stayed silent. This was too much, too much death, too much fear. She couldn’t do it, not anymore. Not now that Harry was gone…hadn’t Voldemort won? Why didn’t everyone see that? Isn’t this what the prophecy meant? _One cannot live while the other survives._ Ron seemed to be thinking the same thing, because his hand remained rigid over hers, watching intently the scene in front of them. 

“Very well,” said Voldemort, and Hermione heard more danger in the silkiness of his voice than in the most powerful curse. “If that is your choice, Longbottom, we revert to the original plan. On your head,” he said quietly, “be it.” 

Hermione saw Voldemort wave his wand. Seconds later, out of one of the castle’s shattered windows, something that looked like a misshapen bird flew through the half light and landed in Voldemort’s hand. He shook the mildewed object by its pointed end and it dangled, empty and ragged: the Sorting Hat. 

“There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,” said Voldemort. “There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone. Won’t they, Neville Longbottom?” He pointed his wand at Neville, who grew rigid and still, then forced the hat onto Neville’s head, so that it slipped down below his eyes. There were movements from the watching crowd in front of the castle, and as one, the Death Eaters raised their wands, holding the fighters of Hogwarts at bay. “Neville here is now going to demonstrate what happens to anyone foolish enough to continue to oppose me,” said Voldemort, and with a flick of his wand, he caused the Sorting Hat to burst into flames. Screams split the dawn, and Neville was aflame, rooted to the spot, unable to move. 

_This must be hell,_ she thought as she watched the horrific display in front of her. _Neville was being burned alive right in front of them, and they couldn’t do a thing about it._

“Hermione, Hermione we have to do something.” Ron was tugging at her arm, eyes fixated on Neville. Before she could respond, there was a loud bang. 

And then many things happened at the same moment.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, “HAGGER!” His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise. Hermione saw Neville move. 

In one swift, fluid motion, he broke free of the Body-Bind Curse upon him; the flaming hat fell off him and he drew from its depths something silver, with a glittering, rubied handle — 

“Ron— the sword—”

“Come on, we have to kill the snake. For Harry—”

They watched in slow motion what happened next.

The slash of the silver blade could not be heard over the roar of the oncoming crowd or the sounds of the clashing giants or of the stampeding centaurs, and yet it seemed to draw every eye. With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet.

Hermione looked at Ron, eyes wide as the chaos erupted around them. “I guess that’s taken care of,” she said in shock. They then seemed to have an identical thought. “The final Horcrux—” Ron started. Hermione pulled them down behind a broken statue, shielding them from the onslaught of spells.

“W-we got them all. It’s just him.”

“We can’t kill Voldemort ourselves, Hermione.” 

“We don’t have a choice! Harry can’t do it anymore—” She closed her eyes in grief. “—it’s _our_ job now. We have to. We’re going to die anyway, right? Might as well put up a fight.” At that exact moment, they heard the loud roar of Hagrid’s distraught voice. 

“HARRY — WHERE’S HARRY?”

“Where's—who?” Hermione started slowly. They turned to look at where Harry had been laying on the ground. Sure enough, the spot was empty. Hermione almost fainted in sheer shock. If Harry was gone, that could mean he was—

“That bastard.” Ron whispered, the ghost of a grin spreading on his bruised face. “That little _bastard_ ’ _s_ done it again.” Hermione looked up at him. “Ron, he’s…” He laughed, a true laugh, the first time she’d heard him laugh like that in ages. Their moment of joy was quickly interrupted by the commencing battle. 

Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants’ stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where; Hermione quickly looked around her. Turning back to Ron, she spoke quickly. “The snake’s dead. Now we just have to fight. Fight until, until something else happens or Harry shows up, because if he’s not actually still alive, and we’re just giving up, I can’t bear it, so we fight.”

Ron nodded, and before she knew what was happening he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her for the second time that night. The world seemed to stop once more as they embraced. She began to speak but he cut her off. “You’re right. We might both be dead in an hour, but dammit we’re gonna fight. For Harry, but also for ourselves. You hear me? We did _not_ go through everything we did for us to not see the end of this. And we _will_ see the end of this, because— bloody hell — I love you, Hermione. Always have. And I don’t care if this is me moving too fast because you need to know now before something happens.” 

Hermione stared at the face of the boy, no man, that she loved. There were a million things that still needed to be said, but now was not the time. So instead, she settled on the moment. “I love you too, Ron,” she whispered with teary eyes. They looked at each other for another moment, nodding silently for what they were about to do, before running into the great hall, where they joined the fight already flourishing inside it.

Voldemort was in the center of the battle, and he was striking and smiting all within reach. Hermione ducked past a spray of rocks, thrown by a distraught Grawp. She disarmed a death eater who was getting dangerously close to Parvati Patil. Sending a burst light directly at one of Voldemort’s giants, she was able to temporarily blind it. Unfortunately, the giant began to stumble backwards towards her. Quickly flinging herself out of the way, she was then pushed aside by a frantic figure. Narcissa Malfoy was screaming hysterically into the crowd for Draco. She paused, watching the mother calling her son with a curious expression on her face. Her thoughts were quickly diminished as she heard a low voice behind her.

“Hello, girly, long time no see.” Her blood turned to ice in her veins as she slowly turned around to find herself standing face to face with none other than Fenrir Greyback. He seemed to have grown even more feral since the last time she’d seen him. His eyes glinted red as he stared at her like she was a slab of meat. “As I recall,” he drawled terrifyingly, “we have some unfinished business. I’ve got to tell you, all that blood of yours back at Malfoy’s? It had me working up a mighty appetite. Too bad your ginger boyfriend got you out of there before I could get my treat.” 

“Screw you,” she spat, hand gripping her wand so tightly she feared it might snap. This only seemed to excite him more. “Well, that’s exactly what I like to hear,” he growled ferociously, swiping a massive paw at her. She threw herself aside, yelling “Stupefy!”, but nothing happened. The spell ricocheted off of his chest, feebly flickering out. He chuckled mirthlessly. “Cute trick, _sweetie,_ but you must know you’re dealing with a werewolf here.”

Fear and anger filled Hermione. This is where she died, at the hands of this disgusting creature. He grabbed her neck, lifting her half off the floor. She struggled with all her might, choked out gasps begging for him to let her go, but she knew it was futile. She felt her vision start to fade when suddenly, she was dropped clean on the floor. Coughing and sputtering, she looked up to find that Greyback had been knocked off about 15 feet from her. A voice yelled from behind her. “Get off of her you bloody moron!” She turned around to see Ron standing there, wand in hand, and shaking with rage. He quickly helped her to her feet. “Are you ok? Did he hurt you?” She looked at his bruised and bloodied face and her own broken body, and couldn’t help but laugh feebly at his statement. This seemed to concern him more, because he gently shook her. “Talk to me, are you _alright?”_

“I’m fine, Ron. Thank you—” But she couldn’t finish her sentence, because Ron was suddenly tackled to the ground by Greyback, who had seemingly recovered. He thrashed under the beast with all his strength. She screamed involuntarily, raising her wand to curse his attacker when Greyback was once again thrown back against the wall. This time, both Hermione and Ron looked up to see who their savior was. Neville stood a few feet away, wand raised. “Thanks, mate, you just saved my life.” Ron got to his feet shakily, and Hermione checked him for any injuries. Neville shook it off. “No problem, I—”

But they didn’t have time to talk because Greyback was somehow yet again coming towards them with pure rage in his eyes. Ron pushed Hermione out of the way, and he and Neville began to duel Greyback. She winced as spells flew close to them. She was about to jump in and help them when her attention was caught by another group. Ginny and Luna seemed to be fighting the same person. Craning her head, her heart dropped. _Bellatrix._ The scar on her left arm tingled yet again at the sight of the deranged witch, but for the first time, Hermione pushed it down. No. She was going to fight back. Take back the innocence that was so violently stolen from her that day at the Manor. Gripping her wand, she sprinted to the duelling group, sending a jinx Bellatrix’s way that caused her to temporarily pause. When she saw her new opponent, Bellatrix laughed a high pitched cackle. 

Ginny and Luna looked at her, grateful for the help. Bellatrix however, had seemed to lose interest in duelling. Instead, she was watching Hermione curiously. “You know, mudblood, I had really hoped that blade had hit you when I threw it. Shame. Who did it hit?” Hermione didn’t know if this was a trap or not, but something inside of her compelled herself to speak. “You hit Dobby,” she said with contempt in her voice. Bellatrix smiled with glee. “Oh, that useless pile of flesh? I should have killed that elf the second he came upstairs. Horrendous creatures, house elves. Sort of like you, _mudblood_ .” The curse left Hermione’s wand on it’s own accord. Bellatrix stopped smiling for a second as the red curse hit her arm. Then, she giggled. “The cruciatus curse? With my wand? It didn’t work for Potter last year, how would a knobbly girl like you possibly muster up the strength to do it? Speaking of, I want my wand back, mudblood.” Hermione looked down at the wand, Bellatrix’s wand, that had loads of experience casting unforgivable curses. It hadn’t entirely worked, but _still_. Bellatrix continued to taunt her.

“But, you would know a lot about the curse, wouldn’t you? _Oh, please, please, I didn’t take anything! It was only a copy! Please!”_ She mocked Hermione’s voice in high pitched falsity. Hermione froze. Luna was looking at Bellatrix with a look of disgust on her face. Ginny on the other hand, looked confused. She still didn’t know what had happened between the two. Hermione only had eyes for the witch in front of her. Hatred she had never known rushed through her. 

“I think we should pick off where we left off, don’t you?” Bellatrix sneered maddeningly and sent the too familiar red sparks shooting out of her wand. Hermione closed her eyes, bracing for the pain, but it never came. The curse had missed. Bellatrix looked just as perplexed as she felt. Her beady eyes narrowed. “Why, you filthy—”

But she couldn’t finish the slur, because Hermione, with a newfound courage, began casting spell after spell at her. Bellatrix regained her surroundings quickly and began to duel, Ginny and Luna resuming as well. The three girls fought their hardest, but Bellatrix was an even, if not better match. Hermione ducked under spell sprays, sending a well aimed jinx that sent Bellatrix tripping on her feet. Bellatrix’s eyes narrowed in hatred. She aimed her wand, shouting “Avada Kedavra!” The spell, however, wasn’t meant for Hermione. It went straight to Ginny. 

“Ginny, NO!” The spell just barely brushed by her red hair, hitting the wall behind them. Ginny turned to look at Hermione, eyes wide in fear from what had just happened. To her horror, Hermione watched as Bellatrix pointed her wand at Ginny once more. There was a loud yell from behind them.

“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” 

Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger. “OUT OF MY WAY!” shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three of them, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel.

  
  


Hermione watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley’s wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered and became a snarl. She ran to Ginny and embraced the girl, before turning back to the fight in front of them. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill. 

“No!” Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students ran forward, trying to come to her aid. “Get back! Get back! She is mine!” Hundreds of people now lined the walls, watching the two. Hermione saw Voldemort fighting McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn simultaneously.

“What will happen to your children when I’ve killed you?” taunted Bellatrix, as mad as her master, capering as Molly’s curses danced around her. “When Mummy’s gone the same way as Freddie?” “You — will — never — touch — our — children — again!” screamed Mrs. Weasley. 

Bellatrix laughed, the same exhilarated laugh her cousin Sirius had given as he toppled backward through the veil, and suddenly Hermione sensed what was coming next. Molly’s curse soared beneath Bellatrix’s outstretched arm and hit her squarely in the chest, directly over her heart. Bellatrix’s gloating smile froze, her eyes seemed to bulge: For the tiniest space of time she knew what had happened, and then she toppled, and the watching crowd roared, and Voldemort screamed. Hermione felt as though she turned in slow motion; she saw McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn blasted backward, flailing and writhing through the air, as Voldemort’s fury at the fall of his last, best lieutenant exploded with the force of a bomb. Voldemort raised his wand and directed it at Molly Weasley. “Mum!” Ginny cried, but there was no curse. Hermione heard an achingly familiar voice yell “ _Protego!”_ from behind her. She felt herself forcibly pushed to the side of the hall by the invisible shield charm. 

And then, out of seemingly thin air, the invisibility cloak, the cloak that she had seen so many times, was pulled off of it’s owner. Harry Potter stood there, very much alive, pointing his wand directly at Voldemort. “HARRY!” Her knees suddenly felt weak with shock. Relief flooded through her as she and Ginny gasped in surprise. She desperately scanned the crowd for the familiar red hair, praying that Ron too was safe. Then, she saw him. They locked eyes, and he shared her watery smile. They both turned back to where their best friend was now circling the dark wizard. Ginny was crying tears of joy and exhaustion , and they held onto each other as they watched, in fear, the scene before them. 

“I don’t want anyone else to try to help,” Harry said loudly, and in total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. “It’s got to be like this. It’s gotta be me.” Voldemort hissed. “Potter doesn’t mean that,” he said, his red eyes wide. “That isn’t how he works, is it? Who are you going to use as a shield today, Potter?” “Nobody,” said Harry simply.

“There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . .” “One of us?” jeered Voldemort, and his whole body was taut and his red eyes stared, a snake that was about to strike. “You think it will be you, do you, the boy who has survived by accident, and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?” “Accident, was it, when my mother died to save me?” asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them, in that perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other. “Accident, when I decided to fight in that graveyard? Accident, that I didn’t defend myself tonight, and still survived, and returned to fight again?” “Accidents!” screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if Petrified, and of the hundreds in the Hall, nobody seemed to breathe but they two. “Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and sniveled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you!”

“You won’t be killing anyone else tonight,” said Harry as they circled, and stared into each other’s eyes, green into red. “You won’t be able to kill any of them ever again. Don’t you get it? I was ready to die to stop you from hurting these people —” “But you did not!” “— I meant to, and that’s what did it. I’ve done what my mother did. They’re protected from you. Haven’t you noticed how none of the spells you put on them are binding? You can’t torture them. You can’t touch them. You don’t learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?”

Understanding finally dawned on Hermione, the information she had so desperately been missing the past few months finally surfacing. Harry was the final Horcrux. It all made sense. _That_ was why Bellatrix couldn’t hurt her with the cruciatus, or why she hadn’t been hit by a rebounding spell.

She watched, fixated, as the two warriors taunted each other. Harry explained what Voldemort just couldn’t seem to get. “Snape’s Patronus was a doe,” said Harry, “the same as my mother’s, because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from the time when they were children. You should have realized,” he said as he saw Voldemort’s nostrils flare, “he asked you to spare her life, didn’t he?” “He desired her, that was all,” sneered Voldemort, “but when she had gone, he agreed that there were other women, and of purer blood, worthier of him —” “Of course he told you that,” said Harry, “but he was Dumbledore’s spy from the moment you threatened her, and he’s been working against you ever since! Dumbledore was already dying when Snape finished him!”

Snape? He...what? Hermione’s eyes widened at the information being shared. Harry then began to talk about the elder wand, which Hermione saw glinting in Voldemort’s hand. And then she got it. The reason why it wouldn’t work for Voldemort, at least not entirely. She was almost certain she knew what would happen soon.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.” 

Blank shock showed in Voldemort’s face for a moment, but then it was gone. “But what does it matter?” he said softly. “Even if you are right, Potter, it makes no difference to you and me. You no longer have the phoenix wand: We duel on skill alone . . . and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy. . . .” “But you’re too late,” said Harry. 

“You’ve missed your chance. I got there first. I overpowered Draco weeks ago. I took this wand from him.” Harry twitched the hawthorn wand, and he felt the eyes of everyone in the Hall upon it. “So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does

. . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand.” 

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort’s was suddenly a flaming blur.: “Avada Kedavra!” 

“Expelliarmus!” The bang was like a cannon blast, and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead center of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Hermione saw Voldemort’s green jet meet red, saw the Elder Wand fly high, dark against the sunrise, spinning across the enchanted ceiling like the head of Nagini, spinning through the air toward the master it would not kill, who had come to take full possession of it at last. And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy’s shell. 

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended: and then the tumult broke around them as the screams and the cheers and the roars of the watchers rent the air. Hermione let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. A 7 year long breath that had settled in her chest that very first Halloween all those years ago with the Mountain Troll in the girls bathroom. Ginny was practically supporting her whole body weight as she half collapsed. It was over. It was _over._ She watched Voldemort’s body lying limp on the ground, part of her afraid that he might leap up any second. When he didn’t, she did what the other part of her had been dying to do since she'd last seen Harry. She ran as fast as she could at him, launching herself onto him, sobbing uncontrollably. Ron was right there with her, hugging the two of them with so much force she thought he might never let go. “You did it, Harry. You did it! You bloody did it!” Harry, who still seemed to be reeling in shock, looked at them, eyes shining as though he couldn’t believe it was real. The crowd of cheerers had grown considerably, and reluctantly, they let go of their best friend to make way for the hundreds of people who wanted to see the hero of the wizarding world. He gave the two of them a look that plainly said, “I _will_ see you later.” 

Ron nodded, taking Hermione’s hand in his own and leading her away from the swarm of people. She smiled up at him, still shaking with adrenaline. For the first time in years, she wasn’t in imminent danger. The two of them stood, watching the sun come up over the broken windows of the hall. Leaning into Ron, she sighed. There was so much that would need to be done, but it was now recovery and rehabilitation, not running for their lives. And that was something that Hermione could live with.

“He’s gone, Ron.” She whispered, and he squeezed her hand. “It’s over.”


End file.
